Meta (Book 5): New Empire

by Reynolds, Tom

  “Five minutes,” he says.

  He throws his remote onto a chair and retreats to his desk. Robin isn’t happy. She climbs the ladder to the roof of the water tower. I go to follow her, but Iris puts a hand out in front of me.

  “Give her a few minutes alone, okay?”

  “Don’t you think we should keep an eye on her? What if she runs off?”

  “She can teleport herself anywhere on the planet before you’d even realize she was gone. I wouldn’t push her.”

  “Good point. How are you feeling about all this?”

  Iris looks over to Midnight to see if he’s listening. He appears buried in his work, but looks can be deceiving with him.

  “I’m nervous,” Iris says.

  “I’m scared too.”

  “I didn’t say scared, I said nervous. I don’t know what we’ll find on Volaris. What if it’s something we can’t do anything about? There’s nothing we can do about their ship, and that’s right above us. What makes us think that we can do anything about an unknown situation light-years away?”

  “I hadn’t considered that. Now I’m scared and nervous.”

  Iris offers a rare smile. Nothing like the idea of dying in the unforgiving vacuum of space to lighten the mood. There’s a clank above us, and we turn to see Robin working her way back down the ladder. She reaches the final rung and turns to face us.

  “Look, I know I can get us there. I can feel it. You’ve shown me where the planet is in relation to us, and that’s all I need to know. Coordinates and headings, latitude and longitude—all of that stuff is not how my teleportation works. I go on gut, even when it’s a place I haven’t seen before. I know it sounds dangerous or reckless or whatever, but it’s the way I’ve always done it. I don’t want to mess with that now. If I second-guess myself, that’s what’ll wind up getting us all killed.”

  Midnight rises from his chair and walks over to us. He stops across from Robin and looks into her eyes. He won’t admit it, but he’s relying on the same thing as she is: his gut. I’ve seen him do it with me more times than I can count. He’s seeing if she’s serious, if she’s actually ready for this. Robin’s gaze doesn’t waver. She’s confident she can pull this off.

  “Volaris will be directly over the northern hemisphere in thirty minutes,” he says. “It’s our best shot at getting you all there in one piece.”

  “Thirty minutes?” I squeak. No wonder he was so tightly wound up about getting Robin ready; he had a schedule he wasn’t telling us about.

  “You’re sure about this?” Midnight asks Robin.

  “I am,” she states confidently.

  “I can use the holographic projector to display the exact location of Volaris in relation to where you’re standing before you teleport. It will appear as little more than a dot in the sky, though, so we’ll be relying on your gut to land all three of you inside the Volarian atmosphere. You’ve got a landing zone about thirty thousand feet deep that you’ve got to hit from 36.7 light-years away. Statistically, it’s close to impossible.”

  “Thanks for the pep talk, coach,” I say.

  He doesn’t respond to that.

  “I can do it,” Robin says.

  Midnight nods and moves back to his desk, where he retrieves two canvas bags and hands them to Iris and me.

  “What are these?” Iris asks. I’m already unzipping mine.

  “Disguises. I used imagery from the crashed ship’s holographic warning to tailor clothing that should allow you to pass mostly undetected on Volaris. Due to inevitable differences in materials and style, they won’t hold up to scrutiny. Remember, you’re only there to observe. If you’re detected, the Volarians will send a message to the ship, and this entire endeavor will be compromised. Keep your distance and don’t speak with anyone. Understand?”

  “Really?” I ask as I pull out a silver shirt from Midnight’s bag. The shiny metallic material feels waxy. It doesn’t seem like it’ll breathe well, so let’s hope it’s not summertime on Volaris.

  Midnight ignores my protest and says, “Once you’ve arrived, Robin will immediately teleport back to the hideout by herself. The trip will require all of her power, so she can’t risk sticking around.”

  There’s a phenomenon with teleportation that I always thought of as the rubber-band effect. When you teleport to a location, it feels like there’s an invisible tether attached, pulling you back to the original point of departure. It’s why teleportation sometimes feels disorientating. Your natural urge is to return to where you came. It fades after a few seconds, and once you get more experience under your belt, you barely feel it. However, if you give in to the instinct and return, it takes less effort. It always reminded me of chess, where your turn isn’t officially over if you still have a finger on your piece.

  “That means you two will be on your own until Robin is rested enough to return to the rendezvous point,” Midnight says.

  I don’t have to ask how long that will be, because I already know from experience: twelve hours. That means for twelve hours, Iris and I will be alone on a likely hostile planet, wearing costumes that most people will see right through, hoping Robin shows up when she’s supposed to take us back home.

  Oh, and we don’t actually know what we’re looking for.

  And the trip there might kill us instantly.

  I excuse myself to hit the bathroom before we head out, just in case I need to throw up.

  Twenty-Five

  Iris, Midnight, Robin, and I stand atop the roof of Midnight’s water tower. It’s cold and damp. Gusts of wind threaten to knock the holographic projector off the roof and onto the street below. I feel exposed standing out here. Whenever I’ve set down on this roof, I’ve always quickly retreated inside. We can be reasonably sure no one’s looking at us since we’re far from the most interesting thing in Bay View City’s skyline tonight.

  Robin is wearing a modified high-altitude suit that belongs to Midnight. He tells us he’s used it in conjunction with the airship for surveillance missions in the past. It looks like a form-fitting astronaut suit, although Robin is a foot shorter than Midnight, so it’s a little loose on her. Midnight reassures her that despite its comically baggy appearance, it will keep her safe from radiation and extreme temperatures during her trip.

  “We’re ready,” Midnight announces solemnly.

  I nod and pull the magtonium disk from the pocket of my questionably authentic Volarian pants. I still don’t buy that Volarians wear pants this tight. The nanosuit activates and flows over my body to form the all-black version of my Omni suit.

  Iris activates her abilities too, turning her long red hair into strands of fire.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” she asks, pointing to her mouth.

  “Oh, right,” I say.

  I concentrate on the nanosuit, and it shifts to cover the only exposed part of my body: the lower half of my face. It’s mildly anxiety-inducing since my natural fear is that I’ll suffocate. Midnight assured me earlier that this won’t happen. The magtonium will function as a rebreather, recycling the wasted oxygen expelled with each breath and allowing me to breathe comfortably for up to an hour while pulling in additional oxygen from my surroundings when possible.

  It’s a precaution. Though Robin is confident that she can land us on Volaris, it’s still like trying to hit a bull’s-eye on a dartboard on the other side of the country. Just missing will expose us to the vacuum of space. In the case of a complete miss, Robin will bring us with her when she rubber-bands back to Earth. It should happen instantaneously, but any steps I can take to protect myself are worth the extra effort.

  Midnight flips a final switch, and the projector springs to life. Kinda. If it weren’t for a small red LED on top, I wouldn’t have known it was on.

  “Is that thing working? I don’t see it,” I ask, expecting to see a holographic depiction of the universe.

  Midnight ignores me and places a hand on Robin’s shoulder, guiding her gaze toward a distant point in
the sky.

  “I got it,” Robin says, her eyes locked on.

  I follow her gaze and squint. The nanosuit picks up on what I’m doing and kicks in with vision enhancements, bringing down the brightness of the city lights so I can find the microscopically small red dot in the sky.

  “That’s it?” I gasp. “You’ve got to be kidding me. It’s the size of a grain of sand.”

  I knew it would be small, but I didn’t think it would be this small. Even with my suit magnifying the dot and enhancing the edges, I can barely make it out. My heart sinks at the realization that this plan has very, very little chance of working.

  While I was by no means a master teleporter, I was experienced enough to know how hard it was to do right. Hitting a spot like that, a spot you can’t even see and have never been to before, would have been impossible for me. I hope Robin really is that good, but I won’t be surprised if I find myself back on this water tower after a three-second teleportation round trip to the Middle of Nowhere, Outer Space.

  “I’m ready when you two are,” Robin says, her sights still fixed on the spot in the sky.

  Iris grips Robin’s forearm. Both keep their gaze tight on the infinitely small red dot. I can’t even find it again.

  “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” I say as I grab Robin’s other arm.

  “Twelve hours. The watches I gave you will alert you every hour, on the hour, of how much time you have remaining. Remember, we’ll have no means of communicating once you arrive. You’ll have to return to the exact same location for Robin to find you. There’s no window for error, so don’t be late. If you miss your departure window, you’ll have to wait another twelve hours before Robin can try again. And if you miss that window…”

  “We’re on our own,” Iris finishes.

  Robin will be putting her life in significant danger with each teleportation. If we miss two pickups, then it’s a pretty safe bet we’re dead, and Robin shouldn’t risk trying a third time. Ideally, we’ll be there for that first pickup and the backup won’t be necessary. Ideally.

  “All right, then. Let’s quit wasting time. Teleporting in three, two…”

  Twenty-Six

  I like to think I’ve grown accustomed to teleportation—to the strange and sudden change in air pressure, temperature, and general feel that happens when you move from one place to another instantaneously. But I wasn’t ready for this.

  The first thing that strikes me is how wrong I was about space. Just because it’s black doesn’t mean it’s dark. The roof of Midnight’s hideout was dark. But this? This is blindingly bright. It feels like a camera flash has gone off right in my face. Even with the nanosuit working to counteract the brightness, I can’t see a damn thing except white.

  The suit is also struggling with the extreme change in pressure. For a moment, it feels like it’s about to peel off my body, but then it adjusts and sucks itself close to my skin. Pretty sure my heart stopped during that part.

  The weightlessness is the last thing I notice. I’m not holding on to Robin anymore. I panic and flail my arms to reach her, sending myself tumbling head over heels in zero gravity.

  There’s no noise except for my own raspy breathing and heartbeat, both deafening inside my constrictive suit. A hand grabs my ankle and pulls, but with no gravity to indicate up from down, I can’t tell where I’m being pulled to.

  I twist around as my vision clears and see it’s Iris who has a firm grip on me.

  My panic subsides, and awe overwhelms me as I take in what’s in front of me: Volaris.

  It looms large, the surface taking up my entire field of vision. At first glance, it looks identical to Earth. I momentarily fear Robin undershot her target by a few light-years, but then I look closer at the water and land. The oceans are a clearer and more vibrant blue from any of the ones on Earth, but it’s the landmass that confirms I’m a long way from home.

  Rather than the multiple distinct continents we have on Earth, Volaris has one huge supercontinent, with a series of much smaller islands dotting the coasts.

  Even from this height, I spot multiple signs of advanced life. To the west are large structures, which don’t appear natural. They are tall and skinny, reflecting the early morning sunlight back into space.

  As Iris pulls us toward the surface, I spot more signs of life: farmlands, cities, bridges, and towers. Different hues of red and blue, which I’ve never seen in nature before, cover huge swaths of land.

  As the shock wears off, I remember that Iris and I are alone. I crane my neck to look behind us and see no trace of Robin. She’s rubber-banded back to Earth, I hope.

  We hit the upper atmosphere and are pulled into Volaris’s gravity.

  “We made it,” Iris tells me over our two-way communicators.

  It’s just us on the channel—until these radio waves make it back to Earth a few dozen years from now.

  “I noticed. Thanks for the lift, by the way.”

  “Don’t mention it. Now that you’re no longer tumbling into space, do you think you can take over?”

  Iris releases her hold on my ankle, and I turn to pull up alongside her as we fall toward Volaris.

  “It’s right after sunrise down there,” she says. “I’m hoping they’re not a planet of early risers.”

  I hadn’t considered we might be spotted before we even landed. I forgot that it’s probably not normal to see people falling from the sky on Volaris like it is on Earth. Hopefully we’re traveling fast enough that anyone looking up will think we’re just two meteors burning up in the atmosphere.

  “There.” Iris points to a patch of land beneath us. Roughly ten miles away are tall, gray structures that look like skyscrapers. Looks like we’re in the right place.

  I’m pushing myself toward the ground at faster than free-fall speed. The lower part of my mask recedes into the suit. The air on Volaris feels warm against the exposed part of my face. I can’t help but smile. I’m about to set foot on another planet. I wish it were under less stressful circumstances, but I still have to take a second to let myself fully experience this absolutely insane moment.

  I glance back while landing to make sure Iris is still behind me. Immediately after turning my head, I crash into the ground, taking in a huge mouthful of Volarian dirt. Iris comes in for a much more graceful landing beside me.

  “Looks like someone wasn’t paying attention during Midnight’s briefing,” she says with a smirk. “The gravity is slightly different here. You’ll want to take that into account when you’re landing.”

  Couldn’t she have reminded me about that, I don’t know, five seconds ago?

  Iris powers down, and her hair returns to a natural shade of fiery red, and her purple jumpsuit recedes back into… wherever it recedes back into. It hasn’t been real clear to me how that works since she revealed she doesn’t need metabands for her powers.

  I power down my nanosuit, and it retracts into a small shiny black disk, which I stick into the pocket of my weird Volarian pants.

  “Whew, okay. We made it past the hard part,” I say.

  “The hard part is just starting, Connor. We have twelve hours to figure out why the Volarians are lying to us and no idea where to start.”

  “I saw some buildings on the way down towards the east—”

  “You mean the west.”

  I glance in the direction I saw them and try to get my bearings by looking up at the sun.

  “The sun rises in the west and sets in the east here, Connor. You really didn’t take in any of that briefing, did you?”

  “I got it. It just takes a few minutes to adjust, that’s all. Regardless, I think that city is a good place to start, unless you have a better idea.”

  Iris begins marching toward the city. I take it to mean she doesn’t have any better ideas.

  Twenty-Seven

  “I still think Midnight is messing with us,” I tell Iris.

  “What did you think alien clothes would look like?”

  “I don
’t know, not like this?”

  I pull a wedgie out from my stupidly tight pants. They’re silver and so shiny I can see my own reflection in them. I’m also wearing a ridiculous matching top. Iris has on almost identical clothing.

  “These look like a parody of what people in the fifties thought clothes would look like in the future. I don’t see what was wrong with our old clothes. They couldn’t be that different from what everyone else is wearing. I think we would have been able to pass.”

  We stop at the edge of the woods. There’s no clear path leading the way.

  Iris checks her watch. “We only have nine hours left. If we’re going to make the most of our time, I suggest we take a shortcut. Walking will take too long, and if anyone sees us taking a stroll out in the middle of the woods, they might stop to ask questions.”

  “Okay, I agree, but Midnight said no flying. So how do you suggest we get there?”

  There’s a flash of purple light and a vague sensation of motion sickness. I’m somehow in Iris’s arms as she places me back down on my unsteady feet. Fifty feet in front of us is a large seamless black wall.

  “Did you just run us here?” I ask.

  I’m not used to traveling at that speed without doing it myself. Being a passenger when someone else is driving has made me feel a little carsick.

  “I told you, if we’re going to do this, we can’t waste any time.”

  Practicing what she preaches, Iris marches toward the black wall looming ahead. I have no choice but to follow.

  As we step out of the sparse foliage bordering the city, the full extent of the wall’s impenetrable nature becomes clear. It’s nearly a hundred feet tall and extends in both directions as far as my eyes can see. The only feature in the otherwise uniform black wall is a small opening a few hundred feet to our left and a large sign that reads Galahue. A pair of guards stands on either side of it, with strange-looking rifles at the ready.

  Outside the wall are hundreds, if not thousands of tents, tarps and other temporarily shelters. I get my first in-person look at a real, live Volarian. Lots of Volarians actually. Some are sleeping, others eating. A handful of children are running around and playing a game with a ball that I don’t recognize. They look just like us. I’m not sure why I expected otherwise, but it still takes me aback.